I never expected to be running the Overland Track in torrential rain and high winds, but that’s where I found myself. Accompanied by Ziggy and Kev running what many would consider a fools errand. Our mission, to drop a car at Lake St Clair, run the full length of the track and retrieve another car at Cradle Mountain. Our cruisy trail run turned into a wild ride when the weather turned on us and darkness descended.

This is the story of how a seemingly simple plan turned into a wet and wild expedition, and how we pushed through to get it done before dinner.

The Proposal

An opportunity to run the Overland track is hard for me to turn down. My girlfriend Lauren was planning on walking the track and was struggling to work out transport logistics. She booked her place on the track and a Waldheim cabin then began recruiting friends to walk with her. I became the next victim of her recruitment drive when she suggested I should run the track in reverse and pick up her car from Cradle Mountain. I didn’t immediately jump at the offer. But once the seed of a big mission is planted it always grows in fertile ground.

After a week of contemplation I decided it was a good idea and I soon had a group of four eager to run with me. Lauren was happy to hear but also wanted commitment to the plan which I couldn’t provide. I don’t like to lock these things in until a few days before when I know the weather looks suitable.

Checking the Weather

As the date approached the weather was looking wet and windy. Starting from 7 days out, I began my habit of compulsively checking the forecast from various sources hoping for improvement. I booked a day of leave from work and told Lauren that if we didn’t run I would drive with her to Cradle and bring the car back. This resolved the commitment issue and allowed us to monitor the weather and make a last minute call without leaving Lauren in the lurch.

As the weekend approached the weather forecast did not abate. Lots of rain and wind remained on the cards. On the Friday before the run, there were big decisions to make. We lost one of the crew when Tim was wise and decided to bail out. The plan was to run Sunday but Saturday’s weather was looking better. We went through with a flurry of planning to see if we could run a day earlier. This became way too hard and I considered pulling the pin all together. Then Lauren sent a message that convinced me to commit. Once I locked in my intention to run, Kev and Ziggy strapped in and we began planning.

Planning for the Worst

I was starting to worry about the conditions we could encounter. So I went into Paddy Pallin to look at a new rain jacket. This resulted in me panic buying the jacket and some fancy gloves. I tracked down a Garmin inReach and arranged for my parents to be the rescue crew if we needed to bail out Arm River. I had a whole day to prepare for the run. This turned into a day of fretting and rumination. My greatest fear was being caught out on the Cradle Cirque at the end of a long day in dangerous conditions. Running the track in reverse puts us at the most exposed location when we are most fatigued.

We compared gear lists and confirmed that we were all on the same page about what we needed to be safe. I am carrying the most gear I have ever run with. We even borrowed some micro-spikes in case of ice on the track. Our packs were feeling heavy before adding water. We had a group session in the sauna once we were all packed. This helped to ease tension and relax before an imminent big one.

You can see my full gear list and preparations in this post: Guide to Trail Running the Overland Track

Beginning of a Long Day

We are awake at 3am and on the road by 330. A long drive to Lake St Clair ahead of us. We stop at New Norfolk for petrol and potato cakes that are somehow hot on the outside while frozen in the centre. With hardly any animals on the road, we have a good drive. The full moon is out which must be keeping the animals subdued.

We arrive at Lake St Clair a little before 630am to a calm and clear morning. Not at all what we were expecting but we are grateful for favourable conditions to start the day. We send messages to let people know of our start time. Then fumble with the inReach to get it tracking before we embark on our long journey.

Along the Lake

We begin our run along the length of Lake St Clair. It is nice to experience this trail on good terms. It is usually a battle heading in the other direction. On fresh legs with plenty of motivation, the trail is quite enjoyable.

The sun begins to rise and we catch glimmers of Mt Ida across the lake. The sky is clear and the lake is calm. My jitters disappear now I am out ‘doing the thing’. Kev, a man known for his banter tells us that if he ever wakes up and cannot think of any banter his life will be longer worth living. This spurs on the homoerotic banter between Kev and Ziggy and I wonder how far they are willing to go for a joke.

We arrive at Echo Point hut and see that it has been refurbished. A friendly walker pokes his head out to say hello. He tells us about a person he met that walked the whole track to Lake St Clair then ran back to grab the car. An innovative Overland track strategy that I commit to memory.

As we approach Narcissus the wind begins to blow and clouds lay ominously ahead. The gradual demise of the conditions has begun. Ziggy nearly trips ahead of me and flings back a piece of chicken wire that was poking up. The wire catches my foot and I superman forwards landing on the duck board ahead. Luckily I get away mostly unscathed and determined not to fall again.

Up and Over Du Cane Gap

We get to Narcissus in a little over 2 hours, making good progress. We forge on while the weather continues to gradually deteriorate. Climbing up Du Cane Gap Ziggy laments the state of his legs, Kev also complains about his legs lacking power. I am slightly worried about the state of my compatriots at such an early stage of the run.

Kev engages his glutes and finds power in his legs while Ziggy soldiers on without complaint. A rain shower sets in as we descend down the other side of Du Cane gap. The raincoats go back on, only to come back off shortly after. This is the beginning of countless clothing rearrangements to come.

At the historic Du Cane hut we see the first big group of hikers. They tell us we just missed out on some dried sausage. Ziggy being a purveyor of processed meats as running nutrition is devastated. He reminisces about stopping in a similar location during the Cradle Mountain Run. He fondly recalls sitting with a group of hikers and devouring a cold sausage.

Kia Ora to Pelion Hut – The Rain Arrives

Next stop is the new Kia Ora hut. We decide to take a slight detour to assess the new hut. It is spacious and luxurious. After having a good look we head back out feeling the chill of our inactivity.

Rain is setting in and the waterproof jackets go back on for the climb up Pelion Gap. I am leading the group by quite a long way. I have been diligently fuelling myself and it is keeping me feeling strong. It is typical to experience a few low points on such a long run. I worry that I am operating on borrowed time and expect to crash any minute.

At Pelion Gap we stop to admire the moodiness of the mountains around us. They are nestled in clouds and dusted in snow. We are beyond halfway now and I am feeling amazing. I have mild survivor guilt about how good I feel compared to the others. After mucking around in the snow and ice we head down towards Pelion Hut.

I am completely dialled in, fully focused on the present and the placement of my feet. This feeling continues to build as the day progresses. I am adamant about making it down to the hut without having a fall. I have a history of bad falls on this rooty and rough section of track.

The rain intensifies as we approach the hut. We take shelter on the porch sit down and gather our thoughts. We have a short discussion and unanimously decide to continue onwards. A short message is sent to my parents and Lauren informing them of our plans. It feels like we have broken the back of it and only have a little bit to go. Little do we know that our greatest challenges still lay ahead.

Pelion to Windermere – Rain Intensifies

We head out into conditions that I would classify as moderate rain. In a attempt to warm himself Kev leads at a brisk pace. I latch onto him and we run without talking, only the sounds of rain and the splash of our feet. I fall into a trance like state focusing on my footing and following Kev like a robot. When I finally snap out of the trance I look down to see that we have ran 7km since leaving the hut.

Ziggy has started to trail behind. He doesn’t complain but it is becoming obvious that he is feeling the toll of his exertions. We’re reaching the business end and there’s less talking and more doing. Ziggy and I have somehow managed without gloves until now. My fingers are teetering on the edge of losing sensation and I don’t want them to become useless sausages. I crack into my first dry pair of gloves and the small improvement works wonders for my morale.

We are all eager to arrive at Windermere hut. It promises temporary respite, warmth and a good opportunity to add more warm layers. Thinking about putting on a thermal makes me feel warmer in anticipation. Looking forward to small improvements is crucial to my positive minset.

Time is beginning to bend and it feels like we have been going for hours and still haven’t arrived. We expect to pass over a rise and descent to the hut any moment now. Each rise gives us hope until we reach the high point are disappointed at the lack of a hut or lake.

Just when we think are destined to endlessly run the same repetitive trails for the rest of time we pass a couple of hikers heading in the same direction. We finally sight Windermere hut. Kev and Ziggy run ahead into the hut and I trail behind. The elation of reaching the the hut is extremely short-lived. Just as I step into the cosy embrace of the heated hut a woman has a go at us. ‘Get out and take off your wet stuff before coming inside’ she snarls in her self-righteous tone.

We step back out into the cold with our tails between our legs. None of us say a word to her in our defence, we are too shocked and tired to engage. In the wet area, we add extra thermals and I do a glove swap to my new fancy pair. In the short period that we have stopped, we are shivering violently. Another walker asks us where we’ve come from and where we are heading. It takes a few repeated explanations to get the point across that we are running the whole track. The concept of running the track in a day is hard for these bushwalkers to comprehend. She tells us to come inside and get warm, but we decline not wanting to go in and face her again.

The next day Lauren walked to Waterfall Valley hut and is certain she shared the hut with our remorseless landlady. She was overheard reminiscing about the good old days and lamenting the overdevelopment of the Overland track, whilst constantly turning the heater on till the hut was like a sauna.

Windermere to Waterfall Valley – Wind and Rain

With great reluctance we head back out into the elements slightly more rugged up but significantly cooler from the period of inactivity. The wind speed is increasing and gusting. As we pass Lake Will the gusts are intense and blow the rain straight into our faces. Being this windy down here I worry about what we are going to face when we climb up onto the exposed cirque.

Barn Bluff partially emerges from the cloud, dusted in snow and gushing with waterfalls. Such an epic mountain is intimidating to see in such conditions. Whilst the weather is horrendous, I am enjoying the luxury of my new gloves and rain jacket. They are working well keeping me warm mostly dry and comfortable. Against all odds, I am still feeling strong and energised. I suspect that I am being fuelled by adrenaline and fear.

I have begun plotting my next move when we get to Waterfall Valley. For the first time in my life I consider wearing my waterproof pants. I tell the boys I have hand warmers, enough for us all to use a pair. The prospect of warm hands and temporary refuge at the next hut stays at the top of my mind.

Kev tells us of his interesting perspective on our hut eviction. He says:

‘I’d like to personally thank that lady, she got me so fired up that it’s given me energy for the last hour’

Kev’s main fuel source is hostile interactions. We joke that he should start an argument at the next hut to give enough energy to get through to the end.

Thankfully, the distance between Windermere and Waterfall Valley is short and we cover the ground quickly. Waterfall Valley is living up to its name. On almost every surrounding surface there is water cascading down. We spot the hut off in the distance with the lights inviting us towards its warmth.

Waterfall Valley to Waldheim – The Wild Finish

We burst into the hut and remain in the wet area too scared to risk entering the heated section. We are pulling out gear with urgency not wanting to spend too long in the hut getting cold. I make the call the crack open my waterproof pants. I get hand warmers, beanie and buff and add these to the growing number of layers adorning my body. Kev and I take advantage of de-gloved hands by scoffing as much food as possible.

Walkers pass in and out of the wet area and question our actions. They again struggle to comprehend what we are doing. One of them invites us into the heated area but we decline not wanting to get a taste for the warmth lest we never leave. Ziggy and Kev both decide to put waterproof pants on too.

As we open the door of the hut and step outside it feels like we are going into battle. Leaving a safe shelter to head out into the mountains seems wrong but we have to get to Waldheim for some lasting warmth. I am experiencing a lucidity that brings up all sorts of quasi-profound thoughts. I even say to the boys ‘The closer you get to death the more alive you feel’, like some bro-science philosopher.

The light is fading and we navigate by headtorch beams through the wall of rain. There is a sense of trepidation amongst us. Ziggy suggests staying close together to prevent getting separated. We all know that there is little room for error. Any small mistake such as a rolled ankle would have dire consequences.

There is a lull in the wind as we climb out of Waterfall Valley. When we reach the plateau it feels anti-climactic. We are now at the most exposed location and it doesn’t seem so bad. It is by all means raining and windy, but I am warm and comfortable. Now that I am in the thick of it facing what I feared my worries dissolve.

Being out in wild conditions and thriving brings on waves of euphoria. My mental state is bordering on transcendent. I start thinking that if one of us were to get hurt I would carry them to safety. I am convinced I could channel the type of strength that allows a father to lift a whole car if his child is trapped.

We lock into consistent movement and tick off the landmarks along the way. First passing the igloo that I once considered an eye sore. Today I am thankful for its existence. It is a surreal landscape to view through headlamp beams and heavy rain. We follow the reflective poles hoping next to see Kitchen Hut appear. The track is so wet and has creeks running across it. It highlights how much rain has fallen. We are near a high point with minimal catchment area and mini torrents are running past our feet.

We stop at the Cradle Mountain summit turn off. I joke that we should head up for a little side trip. The joke spurs on a genuine morbid curiosity about what it must be like on the Cradle Summit. Thankfully neither of the boys were keen to join me on the delusional side trip and we kept moving along past Kitchen Hut.

Kev is rallying and running the strongest of us all. Ziggy is waning and trailing behind while I am running in between trying to keep both within sight. We stop and regroup at the various turn offs to triple check that we are heading in the right direction. At the top of Marions lookout the wind speed reaches all new heights and the rain becomes sleet. It is a head wind so our faces are being lashed by sleet icicles.

It is exhilarating to be out amongst it knowing that our mission is almost complete. I stop to adjust my pants and then wait for Ziggy. I am waiting so long that I trick myself into thinking he must have passed me. Just before I start running he appears behind me. It is easy to get disoriented and this reminds me to not get complacent since we are not done yet.

Descending from Marion’s lookout is treacherous with wind trying to blow us away. I am experiencing child like joy and wonder prancing down the hill towards Waldheim. I have somehow felt good all day and my legs still feel fresh. The waterfalls on Crater Creek are gushing ferociously. I continue running then waiting then running till we get to the Ronny Creek bridge. With the end in sight Kev and I run the whole way up the hill to our finish line at Waldheim. Ziggy follows shortly after and we walk up towards the cabins sighting a quoll on the way. I find my car parked out the front of a cabin and Lauren pokes her head out. We are done and it feels surreal to be back to safe haven after what we have been through.

Kev and I have warm showers then settled into a long evening of relaxing and snacking. Ziggy is worse for wear. He was struggling in the end but persevered given there wasn’t any other option. He drags a mattress in front of a heater and lays there feverish for a few hours while his body cames to terms with what just happened.

Wrap Up

The following morning Lauren, Bella and Silvia headed off on their walk. The lady in the cabin next to us told us that 40mm of rain recorded in the last 24 hours. A bit more than the 5-15mm predicted by BOM. Kev, Ziggy and I embarked on our long journey back to Hobart. Our elaborate but convenient car logistics plan had worked perfectly.

Now, a few weeks on, I consider this to be one of my favourite running missions. I felt amazing all day long and while battling through significant adversity to get it done. It bears all the hallmarks of a memorable day out. Our anxious over-preparedness paid off with us having the right gear, fitness and experience to pull it off safely.

With the right preparation, being out in wild weather makes you feel alive. I wouldn’t recommend replicating what we did but definitely suggest getting out and running in the rain. As my relative in Scotland says ‘if you don’t get out in the rain you never go out’. The same adage applies to the Tasmanian climate.

I hope you enjoyed my extended ramble, thanks for reading.